Beautiful Like Me
by DevlinV1
Summary: [FIN:2004:Small hints of slash] RVD just read Rico's latest edition of Straight Talk and does NOT like having his appearance insulted. Instead of getting angry, he takes Rico's beauty advice, much to the chagrin of one Christian Cage.


**Beautiful Like Me**

**By Archangel**

_A/N: In one of Rico's "_Straight Talk" _articles in RAW Magazine, he said that Rob Van Dam needed a huge makeover and described some of the things he'd change about Rob's look. This is based upon that article._

Rob frowned and whipped the magazine across the room, growling slightly in annoyance. How dare he? How dare that Rico faggot say anything about the Whole F'n Show? He had no right to insult him in an article that millions of people read every month. Another low growl started in his throat as he thought further about the comments Rico had made about him. Things like saying that his ponytail was outdated, that the shaved sides made him look like he had "tripped and fell onto a pair of clippers." And he even went so far as to say that his singlets were horridly ugly! Rob was proud of the custom made airbrushed wrestling attire. Each one was a work of art personally made only for him.

Rob went over to the mirror above the dresser in his dimly lit hotel room. He turned on the lamp next to him and took a good long look at himself. How could anyone say such things about him? Women were constantly hanging on him. He had as many fangirls as any of the other handsome guys in the business. Well, maybe not quite as many as say Matt Hardy or Chris Jericho, but still enough to make him blush sometimes. Especially when he got flashed in public, which had happened numerous times.

He sighed. He couldn't believe he was actually letting the opinions of Rico get to him. Somehow, though, it mattered a great deal. Maybe it was because Rico was a fellow martial artist. Of course, no one would know that nowadays since Rico hardly ever used his real skills in the ring. But Rob knew. Rico was a challenger that Rob hadn't been able to defeat in a normal martial arts competition. His skills went far beyond his own and that was just frightening considering Rob knew five different styles of fighting.

He leaned in closer to the mirror, running a hand thoughtfully over his face, listening to the scratch of beard scruff. Maybe he _could_ stand to at least shave. It would certainly brighten his face up and make him look younger. And did he really have split ends? He pulled the end of his ponytail into his view. He couldn't tell. His hair had always looked like this. Before he knew what he was doing, he was calling up one of the clerks that kept track of all the wrestlers on the road. He jotted down a couple numbers and then redialed a new number.

"Room number 231, please."

ring

ring

"Hello?"

"Um, hi… Rico?"

"Yes. Who's this?"

"It's… It's Rob." There was only silence for a moment. "Rob Van Dam."

"gasp! RVD! What a surprise! Well, not really. I was wondering if you'd call me or not. I'm guessing you've read my latest _Straight Talk_?"

"Yeah, yeah, I read the damn thing. I had to after I noticed my picture was smack in the middle of it."

"I was hoping to get your attention. Ya know, Rob, I didn't mean any insult by it or anything. I only wanted to show you the obvious."

"Alright, just shut up a second." Rob paused and rubbed his forehead, hating listening to the guy talk. "Some of the things you said got to me. I don't know why I even care, but—"

"Oh, I know why, Robbie. Everyone cares about the way they look! Even if it's just a little bit! Don't feel bad or anything."

"I don't feel bad," he growled. "I just… I… sigh Do you actually know how to cut hair and stuff?"

"Well, no, I don't, but my stylist sure does. Gina can work wonders on anyone. She's done a lot of makeovers before."

"I don't want a _makeover_. But if it's true that my hair is frizzed out and dead at the ends I'd be willing to get a trim. Not a big one either. I like my long hair. So do a lot of other people."

"If you just want a trim, Robbie, you don't have to go through me. Just go to any barber shop."

"I know, but…" He rolled his eyes, not wanting to say this. "I have always kinda wanted some more… blond in my hair…" Again there was another moment of silence. "Rico? Are you there?"

"Yep. I'm on my cell phone to Gina right now. We'll be at your hotel in just about 30 minutes. So spiff up and be decent when we arrive." He chuckled a little. "Or if you prefer I can come alone and you don't _have_ to be decent."

Rob slammed the phone down quickly, not even wanting to go near that subject. His frowned creased just a bit deeper as he glanced around the empty room. What had he just gotten himself into?

He stepped out of the bathroom after hearing the knocks at his door, pulling it open to see Rico and a young Latino woman, who he assumed was Gina. The two of them had quite a few boxes that looked like makeup kits. Rob gave a small smile, which looked more like a grimace and stepped aside to let them in.

"Wow, you RAW stars sure do rough it, huh?" Rico asked as he looked around the simple room.

"No, I just don't like to spend the money on an extravagant room when it's only me and I'm only here for a little while." Rob poked slightly at one of the boxes. "So, what all this stuff?"

"Supplies. You need a lot of work."

"I do not! Shit, you make it sound like I'm some hideous monster! I don't have a hump on my back or anything, ya know."

"Now, Robbie—"

"Stop calling me that."

"Psh, fine. Rob. If you really read my article, you'd know that I think you're quite handsome." Rico paused to wink at him, which Rob snarled at. "You just need some guidance on how to make yourself more presentable."

"Alright fine. Delude yourself as much as you want, but I'm setting some ground rules right now. You will not cut my hair any shorter than shoulder length. You will not change its color except to add some blond streaks. You will not put makeup on me _anywhere_. And I will not wear anything that has flowers, pastel colors, or anything else I deem as _flaming gay_."

Rico gave Rob a glare for those last two words, glancing over at Gina and saying something to her in rapid Spanish. Rob arched a brow as the woman giggled and started setting up some things to take care of Rob's hair.

"And Rico?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm fluent in Spanish and I am not a homophobic prick who needs to get laid by a real man."

Rico blinked in surprise. "Oh… Well, I take it back then."

"Let's just get on with this crap."

Rob glanced around nervously as he made his way through the still empty halls of the arena. He hoped he could just get to his dressing room quickly without running into anyone else. He had been told he looked good, was even convinced it was true, but he felt so different like this. And he was afraid of what some of the others might say or think. It was hard to believe, but for the first time he was completely self-conscious. This wasn't like him at all. He was usually calm and collected.

He was so lost in his worries that he didn't even notice someone coming around the corner until he ran smack into them. He quickly grabbed the person so to help keep their balance, seeing that it was Chris Jericho.

"Damn it! Will you watch where you're going, you ass…" Chris trailed off as he looked up at Rob. "RVD? Is that you?"

He smiled a little. "Last time I checked, yeah. Are you okay? Sorry I didn't see ya, man."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine…" Chris's eyes trailed up and down Rob's new look. "Wow. You clean up really good."

Rob felt his cheeks warm slightly, knowing he was blushing. He felt completely out of place like this. Rico had insisted on a new outfit, just this once, and had picked out something that Rob actually found appealing. It was still very simple like most of Rob's normal clothes, but there was a flair to it. Simple blue jeans that hugged his thighs and hips, a tucked in white undershirt, and a sheer white dress shirt thrown over it. So sheer in fact that it was barely there at all, and it was made of a soft material that would billow with just the slightest breeze. All of that combined with the fact that his hair was hanging in waves around his face, highlighted with golden tones that had never been there before, made him absolutely positive he looked nothing like his usual self. Not even his usual beard shadow was there anymore.

"Yeah, well… I was in the mood for a change," he said quietly.

"It's good. Very good. I never noticed you had yellow eyes before."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Must be the hair bringing them out." Chris shook his head slightly, trying to get rid of that 'in awe' feeling. "Well, you'd better watch out. The girls are gonna crazy over this new Rob Van Dam."

"Thanks, Chris. See ya later."

"Hopefully…" he muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing. See ya."

Rob arched a brow at that. He wasn't sure, but he could've sworn Jericho had just flirted with him. He shrugged to himself and continued down the hall, having finally made his way into areas where people were more frequent. He passed by quite a few of his fellow superstars, noticing their stares and looks. It was embarrassing. Even when some of the divas smiled wickedly at him, and he knew precisely what they were thinking of him, it was still humiliating. He had to wonder how some of the others dealt with it everyday. People were staring at him like he was a sex object.

Finally he closed himself in his dressing room, relieved to finally be alone. He had to get himself back to normal. First thing first, his ponytail! He fished his brush and his container of hair bands out of his duffle bag, going over to the mirror and running the brush through his hair to untangle it first. As he looked at himself, though, he found he didn't want to put his hair up again. He liked the way it looked around his face and over his shoulders. He decided to change clothes instead. The sheer flowing shirt was definitely a little too much. He quickly shed it and tossed it aside to instead pull his own RVD shirt out of the bag. He glanced in the mirror distractedly, catching sight of himself and being halted yet again. He looked damn good in just a 'wife beater' and jeans. He couldn't make up his mind.

"Ugh… I'm turning into a woman. Never satisfied with my appearance and can't make a damn decision for nothing."

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. He turned to see his opponent for the night stick his head in. Christian smirked devilishly as always.

"So the rumors are true."

"What rumors?"

"That someone kidnapped RVD and a new version of him has been put in his place." Christian came in and closed the door again, looking him over as so many people already had. "They were saying the pod person is a snazzy dresser."

He grinned. "I'm not a pod person, freakazoid. I just… Decided it was time for a change."

"Yeah, and Rico's article had nothing to do with it?" Rob narrowed his eyes at him. "I read that article. And I dunno why, but I had a feeling that if you read it you'd spaz out like this."

"I didn't spaz out. Rico just brought things to my attention."

"Don't defend that flamer. He got under your skin and made you change just because he didn't like your ponytail."

Rob frowned. "Why the hell are you in my room, Christian?"

Christian pulled himself up to sit on the counter in front of the mirror Rob had been staring into. He reached over and lightly flipped a lock of hair over Rob's shoulder, fingering the strap of the undershirt a little, and then leaned over slightly to look down at the blue jeans, taking notice of the shining black boots that were barely hidden underneath.

"Ya know what I call all of this?"

"What?"

"Selling out." Rob glared at him much fiercer this time. "You're mad because you know it's true. Rico said you were outdated and you agreed with him. You let him 'bring you into the twenty first century'. You sold out and now you just look exactly like everyone else."

"It's not really any of your damn business, ya know."

"I know. I know, but I had to tell you what I thought."

"Well, you did so goodbye."

Christian still didn't move. "I liked you the way you were. You were different. You didn't give a flying fuck what anyone thought of you. In these times a trait like that is admirable. At least I think so." He slid off of the counter again, turning to look at Rob in the mirror instead. "You're beautiful like this. I admit that. But you're beautiful just like everyone else. Before you were beautiful like you and only you. No one else could even copy what you had going on."

With that Christian turned and walked away, leaving Rob once again to the silence of his dressing room. As soon as he was gone he grabbed the brush again. Only a second later he grabbed a hair band.

He raised his head as a knock came at the door. He glanced over at Christian idly before getting up to answer it. He was surprised to see a postal worker.

"Package for Jason Reso."

"Does it have to be signed for?"

"Nope."

"I'll take it then. Thanks." Jericho closed the door and walked back into the room, tossing the box on the bed in front of his partner. "Somebody loves you."

"Really?" He snatched up the box and looked at the label. "It doesn't have a name. Just an address from Georgia."

"Open it. It's not ticking is it?"

"Nooo, I dun think so," he snickered and slit the tape with his thumbnail. "I hope I don't get an anthrax cloud in my face."

"Ya know, that's not supposed to be funny," Chris laughed anyway.

Christian shrugged and pulled open the flaps of cardboard to see nothing but white tissue paper and a letter lying on top of it. He set the letter aside and opened the tissue paper, gasping at what he saw. Chris came back to the bed, peering over Christian's shoulder before he pulled the object from the box. It was a wrestling singlet. Not just any singlet, though. It was a handmade work of art. It was black material, but bore the most elaborate airbrushing he had ever seen. His wrestling name was in fancy red script across the chest, being the boldest of the decorations that covered the clothing, and the rest were complex and intricate swirls and designs. It gave the singlet the look of being on fire in colors of red, orange, and yellow. Turning it around showed the same gorgeous designs except for one thing that stuck out. Near the bottom, about precisely where Christian's left ass cheek would be had he put it on, was a small black and white yin yang.

"Wow…" Christian breathed.

"Somebody _really_ loves you. What's the letter say?"

Christian quickly snatched it up. "It's only a short note. Dear Jay, Thank you for helping me to see the light. I haven't been feeling quite myself lately, but you really helped out a lot. I found myself again. I had this made for you by the guy who does all of my singlets. I hope it fits and maybe you'll wear it some time. I'd at least like to have a picture of you in it. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart. Affectionately, Rob."

"Damn. What did you do to him?"

"All I did was tell him he was a sell out…" Christian held up the singlet to look at it again, "and that he was beautiful."

Chris smiled. "Seems as though he really appreciated it."

"Yeah… Is there any film in your camera?"

Rob yawned as he dug through his bag for a pair of clean boxer shorts. There was a small tapping at his door. He looked over at it, unsure that he had even heard it, but he could see shadows moving through the crack underneath. Then something slid under the door and the shadows disappeared. He cocked his head curiously and went over to pick it up, seeing it was a plain white envelope. He opened the door and glanced up and down the hall, barely catching a glimpse of someone ducking into another room. He could've sworn he saw blond hair and a sparkling silver shirt. He smirked slightly and leaned against the door frame, opening the envelope. He couldn't help but laugh at the contents.

He held up the two Polaroids to admire them. They were of Christian, wearing the singlet Rob had designed for him. One was a front view and one was a back view, the back view including Christian pointing at the yin yang on his butt and obviously laughing. Rob smiled fondly and went back into his room. He went over to the dresser where his bag was still sitting and waiting for him to continue his rummaging. He set the two pics on the dresser, leaning them up against the mirror so he could see them, and went back to his bag happily.

**The End**

_Legalities: Chris Jericho is copyright to himself. Christian Cage is copyright to TNA Wrestling. Rob Van Dam, Rico, and any other mentioned characters are property of World Wrestling Entertainment. I claim no knowledge of each of the characters sexual preferences or lives. This is a story of fiction, none of these events are real. I received absolutely no profit from this story._


End file.
